


My Mentality

by TheUltimateUndesirable



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkwardness, Best Friends, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Ron Weasley, Bottom Harry Potter, Bottom Ron Weasley, Cheating, Confused Harry, Drunk Sex, Emotional Constipation, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Infidelity, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV First Person, POV Harry Potter, POV Ron Weasley, Porn with Feelings, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Secret Relationship, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Top Harry Potter, Top Ron Weasley, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUltimateUndesirable/pseuds/TheUltimateUndesirable
Summary: The way he looks at Harry is different than before. Maybe it was just Harry's own mentality that had changed. Whether it was or wasn't....he didn't know how or if he could fix it without loosing a friend.I suck at summaries. Maybe I will fix it later. Awkwardness. Tension. Eventually it's obviously fixed.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 62
Kudos: 87
Collections: HN Siriusly Amazing Writing Challenge





	1. That Look

**Author's Note:**

> This fic popped into my head out of nowhere due to a prompt given by Hermione’s Nook. 
> 
> "There was something about him. Something about the way he watched me."
> 
> Slytherin is behind in points so I have no choice but to write it! At least that is my validation…
> 
> Of course it is a multi chapter WIP because I'm naughty, and I have bad influences. I’ve only ever done one other 1st person POV, and this will be my first multi chapter 1st person POV. I hope it comes out good! 
> 
> Read the tags like a good reader. There will be cheating but it does NOT involve Ron or Harry cheating on each other. 
> 
> JK owns all rights yada yada.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189190041@N05/50397585638/in/dateposted-public/)

There was something about him. Something about the way he watched me. It was different than before. Sure it might just be my mentality now. That definitely changed as much as I tried to get it not to. I’ve always been both subconsciously, and consciously stubborn. This was the first time I truly hated that aspect of myself though. 

Before when he looked at me it was normal. Felt normal. It didn’t feel like there was anything hidden beneath his gaze like it does now. The looks we had shared back then were just like every other day and night we had spent together the last seven years. We looked at each other like all friends did.

It seems it had only taken that one night for that to change. One night. Does that mean our friendship wasn’t as strong as I thought? Or does it mean something else entirely. I still can’t figure it out after three weeks of feeling his blue eyes boring into me from behind. Even when he thinks I don’t know it I can somehow feel them. 

I know what provoked it. The different way he looks at me now that is. Still I don't know the real reason for it if that makes any sense. There was something about him I just couldn't put my finger on. Four options come to mind. One sounds pretty good. I think I can handle his questioning on what my awkwardness is all about. I'm a pretty decent white liar. The others though? No, I refuse to think about them further, and what could come from them. 

Maybe he knows. Maybe he knows I was awake. My breath hitches at the very idea of him knowing every single time I’ve considered it as a reason for the steeled, and oddly curious way he looks at me.

I'm not sure how I feel about that. My brain says it can’t be a good thing if he knows. My heart and my cock though? They are horribly intrigued by the idea of him knowing. I curse them both a lot on a daily basis now. 

It was a normal thing to do. Completely. They were all pretty normal responses to it also. I try hard to tell myself that. Although I had to admit perhaps it wasn’t normal doing it in the same bed you're sharing with someone. 

We have shared a room all our school life. Even most of the summer, and holiday breaks when I stayed there. Which of course had been a lot. So it wasn’t like I’d never heard him do it before, but we were definitely never ever as physically close to each other as we were that night. 

The Burrow had been short a bed with them remodeling the place. I had insisted, or well practically forced the money into their vault, and finally they had begrudgingly accepted it. For some reason though, probably Mrs. Weasley’s emotional state from losing Fred and still not wanting to spend the money, she had only gotten two new beds. One for her and Mr. Weasley, and one for Ginny. 

How they had managed to forget about Ron was beyond both of us. Perhaps it was because all his brothers had moved out right after graduating a normal seventh year. Or in the twins case even earlier. Remembering both Ginny and him were going back to school, with all the grief I guess just slipped her mind. I think she should have waited until they were on the train to start remodeling rooms though.

How or why didn’t matter really. It was only for one night anyways. So it wasn’t a big deal. 

I guess I could have gone back to Grimmauld, but already being there I hadn’t really wanted to go back. Grimmauld felt dark, dingy, and felt lonely when alone. All I had wanted was simply to join them on the way to the platform for our last school year, a proper seventh year that they were calling eighth year, with the Weasley’s like always. 

Mr. Weasley had transfigured a bed for Ron before I got there. It was stiff, but no one in the house was particularly gifted in transfiguration. So we left it be. 

Neither of us fancied the idea of sleeping on the hard wooden floor though, so it had been an easy shrug off. What the hell was the thought? We just climbed into the small twin sized bed, despite being two full grown men, and got comfortable without a fuss. It took a little maneuvering, but we settled in positions that didn't have us touching each other much. Just the brush of our backs. 

Again it hadn’t been weird though. We were, or are still I think, best friends after all. However that position had apparently been much easier to maintain awake.

I did admit it should have been expected for the bloke to snuggle me in his sleep. Pulling me in close like I was his personal fucking pillow, waking me up in the process. He had always tossed and turned, and it was practically instinct to hold someone. I think. 

I'd tried to get out of his grip as I blinked enough to finally be awake, and aware, but he'd only held on tighter. That's when I had to remind myself instantly on repeat that it was also completely normal to develop an erection in your sleep. It sure didn't feel like it was a normal response though when it was up against my arse. 

At first it had been horribly uncomfortable. Awkward could be a good word to use also. I’d never felt up a bloke, let alone my best mate. Yet now I can practically remember the complete outline of his cock against me. Hardened that is. 

Then I couldn’t deny at all that it was most definitely not normal for him to grind his cock up against my backside. It had been mildly terrifying when he had held my upper body tighter into him, burying his nose into my neck, and slowly moved his pelvis away. When he pulled back relief had coursed through me. 

The relief didn’t last however because half a second later I could feel the hard tip of his swollen cock against my crack. With no shirt on I could feel the warm heat of it, even covered in cloth, against the small of my naked back as he pushed up along it. I thanked Merlin for our pants at that moment as my face grew hot. The idea of Ron's cock against my bare ass? I hadn’t been able to bloody breathe. 

When he repeated the movement I nearly squeaked because I knew what was going to happen when he pulled away. It caused me to tense up on the spot. He had to have been having some kind of erotic dream. That was the only explanation, and it was just horrible luck that I was in the bed. 

The redhead was probably imagining himself all over whoever it was in his dream. Whoever that may have been. Holding. Rubbing. Snogging. Groping. Shagging. Having the physical contact had his brain encouraging him to seek more, and more from his dream shag. Understandable. Except that more was me. 

When he took a deep breath as if readying himself for more, I held my breath. A horrible combination of fear and anticipation ran through my mind of what was going to happen next. Instead of his hips again, the arm wrapped about my rib cage moved. 

I’d practically choked when his hand moved upwards, skating my nipple which hardened right away, in the process. There had been no possible way to prevent myself from pushing my arse out a little as he brushed it again. When his hand moved back downward across it again was worse, because my cock jumped from the stimulation. 

It was mostly to get away from the feeling when I pushed my body back. I think. My mind is so jumbled anymore I can't remember. Either way I had stopped almost as soon as I started because it reminded me of his cock nestle in the groove of my arse. 

Then I shivered, feeling the heavier growing puffs of air against my skin. They had been shallow before. As he began shifting a little it told every part of me he was awake., and I laid stiffer than I ever had. Even during the war, and hiding positions I’d managed, I’d never stayed more still. 

Apparently he figured out what he had been doing also because his body tensed. At least at first. Then my brain basically short circuited as he did it all again. He had to be awake. There was no doubt the stronger and firmer way he moved. 

Ron was awake as he ground his cock against my arse again while brushing my nipple at the same time. His movements were more confident and focused. I thought he was going to keep dry humping even as his little thrusts slowed since he continued flicking and rubbing at my stiffened peak. Dragging his palm against it before a light twist. I had to bite my lips and squeeze my face so tight to not make any movement or noise. 

It had to have been normal for my cock to get hard from what was happening. I mean someone was holding me flush, tweaking my nipple, and grinding against me. Breathing hot and heavy on my neck. It absolutely had to be normal. Even if it was my best mate doing it.

I am not ashamed to admit I was scared when his hand moved down my bare stomach, intentionally. It ignited my skin. Smoothing over it softly back and forth for a second almost down to the trail of hair leading to my pubes. My heart had raced thinking about an awake Ron discovering my erection.

However, much to my relief, his hand moved up to my hip and he slowly rolled onto his back. I let out a deep breath as calmly as I could when he let me go. My heart was in my throat, but I needed air. It at least allowed my body to relax a little. 

That was until I felt Ron’s shoulder move. It was unable to be prevented in such a small bed. We had started on our sides facing opposite directions. There was no stopping being able to feel it when he was laying on his back. The curve of his arm and bicep pressed against mine.

Then his shoulder moved again, and that time the bed along with it. It didn’t take a genius to know what he was doing. I’m a man. Even a woman would know. The steady rhythm of an arm hitting the bed no matter how softly even the daftest person had to know he was wanking. 

It felt so wrong that my cock ached too. At least I felt like it was wrong even though my cock very much disagreed. It was practically begging me to touch myself. Especially as Ron started moving his arm faster, my breathing along with it.

Then it was like he had all but forgotten I was in the bed right next to him. Literally. Like he couldn’t feel my back against his shoulder or bicep as he stroked himself up and down at a much more furious pace. I could hear him panting. It was shallow. I think he was trying to not be loud, but so close it was inevitable. 

Merlin and when he came? Oh there was no denying when that had happened. He grunted. The bed dipped down where I could feel his hips raise up into his hand. His arm moved so much slower, continuing to fist himself. 

The bloke didn’t moan though and I gave him credit for that accomplishment because I sure as hell had wanted to. Both from arousal and disappointment. Arousal from feeling and hearing him wanking after almost being used like a bloody sex doll, and then the disappointment due to the fact I wasn’t the one coming. 

The worst part of all I think was the fact I could see it in my eyes that were blown wide staring out the window into the night sky. His laxed face, dropped mouth, light freckled chest that had ropes of cum on it. The long cock slowly being stroked by his hand still with his bed ruffled red hair sticking up. I’d had to swallow that image down thickly. That was not normal. Imagining your best mate in the throes of an orgasm while your own cock throbbed from want and neglect.

My cock had had to get over it. There hadn’t been a chance in hell I was going to touch myself and let him know I was awake though. It would have been absolutely mortifying for us both, and I wasn’t sure we would ever be able to look at each other again at all. Mortifying and embarrassment were the only things that would surely ensue from what happened.

Then he took me completely by surprise by rolling over again. The action caused a sharp intake of breath, my heart to skip a beat, and my arse to move out a little again for what reason I don’t know. Unlike I expected him to, he didn’t roll back the other way so we weren’t facing each other. 

No, he rolled back to me. Putting his long arm around my chest pulling me close again. There wasn’t an erection pressing against my arse which was a relief I guess. It didn’t feel like much of a relief though because I was trapped in his long arms unless I wanted to reveal my awake state. Which I definitely didn’t. 

I could have just shoved him off of me, and jumped up. Acting mad for being used as a snuggle buddy. Then I could have run to loo to take care of my hard and angry cock.

For some reason I didn’t. I simply laid there. Suffering from physical and mental distress, semi confused. The only pro in the moment was I found I enjoyed his embrace. Was it a pro?

I tried to think of what I was going to do with the weird feeling. The only thing I could think of though was pretending that it hadn’t happened. That was what I had settled on. I would push the memory into the back of my head and pretend it never happened. Even though it was literally ingrained into my brain. Bloody hell it felt like it ingrained into my arse. 

Needless to say I didn’t sleep anymore that night. Ron somehow managed it, as if completely unbothered by what he had done. When I could tell he had finally fallen back into a deep slumber, and only then, I had allowed myself to completely relax. More like melted actually, in his arms from exhaustion. Physical and mental from maintaining my state. Even my erection began to deflate seeming to give up hope of what it wanted.

Hours later I still laid awake in his arms, determined to let the bloke wake first. If he was so okay with it he could deal with the weirdness of waking up holding me. That was if he felt any. Then I could go about pretending it hadn’t happened like I wanted. 

It took him forever. It actually took his mum banging on the bloody door to finally wake him up with a startle. I was thankful she only knocked, or well beat on the door. Who knows what she would have thought finding us snuggling. The words us and snuggling paired together was something my brain still couldn’t process. 

Once he had left the bed, with none of the tensed muscles I’d foolishly hoped for, I’d jumped up like I’d been wanting to. I didn’t even use the loo. I just threw on my clothing, and headed for the kitchen. Taking a piss could wait. 

Then we simply went about the day almost like normal. At least I tried to be normal anyways. I think Ron acted normal also. Truth be told I can’t remember being able to truly tell. My mind had been too focused on trying to get the stubborn arse image, and feeling out of my head each time we looked at each other or he walked near me.

We did talk throughout the day. I may have avoided eye contact a bit much, especially on the train. Hermione had noticed of course, but I think I did a good job at blaming it on dreading the school year. However that was definitely a lie because I was ecstatic to have a normal year back at the place I considered home with all my friends. Where despite what had happened we could band together hoping to better our lives for good.

The castle dorms weren’t equipped to house an extra year of students as we found out when we returned. McGonagall told us as soon as we got through the doors that all eighth years were going to be sharing a common room, and the kitchen elves had redone old classrooms. Turning each one into a dorm room with two to a room. 

Of course I was able to pick Ron then Seamus and Dean picked each other. The task wasn’t hard as most houses chose to stay together. Except Neville who settled on pairing with Ernie, but luckily both shared a herbology knack and neither cared all that much.

It was after that first week of getting settled into classes. That first week of getting adjusted back into a school routine. The first Friday night where I just couldn’t take it anymore. Then it was after that I became acutely aware he had started looking at me differently. Maybe it was just odd timing it. Maybe I had risked it being so soon. Maybe I had just not allowed myself to notice.

I was horribly unsuccessful at putting the memory of us in that bed together in the back of my brain. No matter how much I tried. My imagination had started running loose like an untamed hippogriff, and Ron’s face in bliss was always what I saw. 

Him walking in from the showers had been my undoing. Water was still dripping down his bare back, and his hair a wet red mess that I cringed thinking about running my hands through. The bloke had done the same thing a million times. He never once in our life properly toweled off, and he always walked around without a shirt in the dorms. 

It was the first time I’d seen it this school year though, and I was horrified to realize I hadn’t even had the chance to prevent my cock from springing to life like a fourth year. I’d found myself saying I was calling it an early night, and burying myself in my blanket facing the wall before he could look at me. I might have sounded desperate since I did to my own ears. 

Thankfully he agreed without an issue since it was already past ten pm. Lights out. Both of us in our separate beds. The darkness held relief. 

I’d waited as long as I could. Over a week I’d resisted the desperate urge to wank. Because if I did I knew it was going to see my best mate. Horrible horrible things I shouldn’t be wanking to about him. 

The thought of suffering like I had that night in the pillow turned bed had my balls hurting. Hurting even more from days of denial. I hurt so much it was like I needed to come and make up for all those nights. It had been some form of physical punishment for being mentally stubborn. 

I thought I had given him enough time to fall asleep, but I could have been so pent up that the time seemed to fly as I waited. We were in different beds so I mean I didn’t have to worry about him feeling it. So I’d caved pretty fast. Not even pushing my pants all the way down.

I’d wanked faster than I ever had in my life. Both due to shame and fear of being discovered. The rush of adrenaline, and excitement that I shouldn’t have had. That feeling had me coming in under three minutes. Hot cum coating my hand while I continued stroking myself through the beautiful orgasm I’d prevented myself from having. I hated myself, but it was fucking fabulous without a doubt.

That next day was when the hair on my neck prickled at breakfast. The feeling was one I was familiar with. People looked at me a lot. When I’d looked up though my eyes were met with Ron’s blue onrs, and it was like a stare off. Locked onto each other until I forced my eyes back to my porridge. I know it wasn’t normal the way I’d looked back at him, but I had thought I was going to have a bloody heart attack under his gaze.

There was something about him now that scared me a little. Something about the way my best mate watched me, both when he knew I was aware and when he thought I wasn’t. All I can really tell is that it's a whole different look than before. 


	2. Which Is It?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you all enjoy this one! I enjoyed it anyways -shrugs- and I'm starting to get use to this 1st person POV thing! 
> 
> Absolutely ZERO idea where this fic is going.....I will try to figure that out soon but right now the boys are in control. We all know how they can be.

I know something is wrong now. If the night before hadn’t been a big enough hint bloody breakfast sure was. Even under his tan skin I could see the redness growing on his cheeks. My own stomach twisted. He couldn’t have known. 

Out of the entire Great Hall he literally became all I could see until he looked away. Panic that had me so nervous I couldn’t even blush was growing. I kept buried in my turning stomach though. I’m nervous because I don’t know which incident is the problem, let alone how to fix it. Something has to be fixed right? We sure as hell can’t just stare at each other. 

Harry had seemed content to play the Burrow incident off at first, and so was I. It would just be something that happened. Lots of weird things happened in life. Feeling up your best mate in your dreams was apparently going to be one of them. 

Unlike him that night I knew he was awake. His breathing had been so rigid, and he was so stiff after I’d been rubbing all over him it was impossible not to tell. Maybe that made it horrible of me. Touching him like that. It was just Harry though, and in the moment it felt so good. My sleep clouded brain hadn’t cared. 

If he hadn’t been up against me I probably wouldn’t have even woken up. Then again I also probably wouldn’t have had such a realistic dream. Holding and feeling his heat had created that for me. It had been fucking brilliant. He was right there in my arms. Firm and solid.

Of course Harry was one attractive arse bloke. Only someone daft with no sense of attraction wouldn’t think so. I hadn’t thought I’d found men sexually appealing. Now I have no idea if I really do or not. Although that’s probably a lie as Viktor Krum comes to mind. 

Holding him though had felt amazing in a way holding Mione never hand. While she had soft curves everywhere, Harry was the opposite. His chest was smooth, but defined. Especially as I felt his nipple harden under my hand. Then his fit arse, no doubt from all the years of flying? 

I have to bite my lips to keep from looking at him again, and try and control my stupid cock. We are in the middle of class. It definitely isn’t the place for replaying such a memory. A memory that is confusing the fuck out of me now. 

It had been so hot. My cock had hurt so bad as I ran my hand up and down him, and my hips seemed to move of their own accord. Somewhere in my state I was vaguely curious to touch him, just slide my hand into his pants and see if it was only me. Then I remembered where I was. I wanted to sleep because we had a long arse day the next day as we made the trip back to the castle. 

My cock had demanded attention after that though, and my drowsiness had allowed me to wank without shame. Briefly I even managed to forget he was awake, as all I thought about was feeling more and more. I didn’t even actually imagine having sex with anyone. All I thought about was rutting against his arse some more. Then after I’d spilled myself, with I admit the horrible image of it being his cheeks, it was like a thick heavy cloud of sleep settled back in. 

I shake my head to try and rid myself of the memory. Again. That’s what bloody transfiguration class always does to me, at least that is what I blame it on. I hate transfiguration. The only positive is we don’t have McGonagall anymore. She would have been on me the second my eyes had zoned out. 

Out of the corner of my vision I can see his nose buried in his book, scribbling something down. Looking at the board I realize apparently we have received notes and our assignment already. I really could care less about it. So instead I just watch his unruly mess of black hair shift back and forth with the motion as he writes. 

He has hardly looked me in the eyes since then. The Burrow that is. When he does it's awkward now. I want to know what's going on inside his head. Does he absolutely loathe me? Or is it something else? Do I want to know what something else might be? It might risk my bollocks being hexed, so I’m not sure if I do. 

My head is definitely saying we need to talk about this, but I don’t think it’s possible to get those kinds of words out. Even if I could manage them I wouldn’t be asking about the Burrow. I’d be asking about what happened last night. 

When I'd come in from the shower was when I got the real impression things weren’t going back to normal any time soon. He had never nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me. Something he had never once done in the entire time I knew him no matter my state of dress. Then he had talked so fast I’d hardly made out the words.

I'd laid there thinking what was going to happen between us now. I think Harry had hoped I would fall asleep right away. It’s why he wanted the dark and quiet probably. So he could pretend I wasn’t there.

“Hey,” I say leaning in close to him, mostly because I need to whisper so Mrs.Gallin doesn't hear me. When I get closer though I feel my skin do something weird. It itches or tingles, but still I have to do something to distract myself from the never ending thoughts. “Uh what are we even writing about?” 

Harry looks at me for a second, furrowing his dark brows before nodding up to the board. I remember I’d hardly looked past there being words on it at all. Partly careless and partially embarrassed I shrug. He rolls his eyes, but slides me his parchment anyways. Leaning in a little closer to see it actually feels normal again as he doesn’t flinch or tense.

Until I linger a tad too long enjoying the normality. Glancing at me I see the little blush grow again as he slowly slides his notes away. It’s that staring thing we now do again as we watch each other, almost as if trying to read each other’s thoughts. His eyes hold more uncertainty than awkward at least. 

To my defense I was actually reading. I lick my lips out of my nerves, and I try not to notice the way he studies me for a second after I look away. When he returns to his writing I let out a breath of relief for some reason. 

I still don’t manage to write anything. My mind is on it again. Which is it? Is it loathing or that something else? There is the chance he really is just uncomfortable in general, and maybe things will return to normal again like I’d originally thought. 

The thought of days and days, or even weeks of this I can’t stomach. There has to be something to test the waters. I’m mental for what comes to mind, but then I will know which it is. A fluke, a need for it to feel normal, or something that we can’t go back from.

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

It’s a horrible idea. My brain keeps telling me that. Yet…..I find myself doing it anyways. I cast the spell under my breath, and my bed erupts into flames that disappear in under ten seconds flat. 

As soon as the fire disappears, my bed crumbles into ash. Not even a splinter of wood is left, and all I do is stare at it. I feel my own blush growing now that I’ve done it. I’ve always had a thing for making stupid choices. That’s how I am where I am now. Completely wet and starkers in front of my best mate without a bed in Hogwarts. 

“What the hell happened?” Harry asked quite loudly from behind me. His voice is on alert and confused. Honestly I can’t blame him because I'm also confused about what just happened. Granted for different reasons. 

“Errr…..I guess I wasn’t thinking right,” I admit with an attempted chuckle, and at least that is the truth. “Kind of need a bed though…” I trail off with embarrassment sinking into me. 

“Just go get McGonagall. She will have the kitchen elves bring one for you, or I mean she is the transfiguration professor after all,” he said and his voice took on a tone of hidden desperation. Like he knows where this is going, and the idea sharing a bed with me was the worst thing he could imagine. It’s too late now though. I’ve already done it. 

“Yes and also the Headmistress now,” I point out trying to think of what to do that could save my arse. McGonagall would probably even give me detention for being so foolish. “I can't go knocking on her door at ten thirty on a Thursday night.” 

“What about…” he started, but I cut that off quickly. 

“That git Pallen? Like hell I'm going to him,” I say firmly. The new head of Gryffindor is an absolute git, making McGonagall a gift from Merlin himself. No chance I’d go to him for anything.

“Well….who in our class is good at transfiguration?” Harry asks.

“Definitely not Seamus or Neville,” is my instant reply. I wouldn’t let either of them touch my scarf for a transfiguration project. “I'm not asking bloody Malfoy either. I mean there is Mione, but she has been awfully…..”

“Moody?” Harry finished for me. 

I wince. The witch has been moody since the start of term, but I have no clue what her problem is. She was fine when she left the Burrow in late summer, and got her own flat in Diagon Alley. Since then though it’s like she is all mixed up on her feelings. I guess much like I am right now. 

“I guess I could go knocking around on doors,” I eventually continued, feeling a growing need to finally towel off and cover myself at the idea of our friends seeing me naked. I don’t get why the idea is different from Harry seeing me. “I'm sure between the Ravenclaws or girls there has to be one good at the subject besides Mione,” I admit weakly. The prospect of walking around telling everyone I was so stupid that I set my bed on fire? I curse myself for such impulsive behavior.

Finally looking behind me I can see Harry debating the situation in his head. His lips are pressed tightly together, and his eyes shot away from me the second I turned. Frankly he seems a little pissed.

“Alright fine. Fine,” he says, sounding frustrated with himself that he is caving. “Just….put some bloody pants on already,” he mumbles lowly. 

It’s not hard to oblige considering I’m still second guessing the entire situation, and I’ve got a desperate urge to cover myself from mild humiliation. Reaching into my trunk I grab the first pair I find, and step into them. I’m trying to focus on calming down my nerves, and my pants at least provide a sense of security. 

What is going to happen is going to happen right? I have to tell myself that again and again as the lights go out. Our friendship can withstand anything after all we have been through. We just have to make it seem normal. Casual. Doing it again will do that. I hope. 

With the window letting moonlight into the dark room, I can see Harry scoot over and adjust the covers, giving me a fair share of it as I slip into the bed with him. The bed is a bit bigger than the one we shared at home. This one is longer, and puts more space between us. Not by much, although he tries to make sure there is. I’d dare say his knees are sticking out over the edge of the bed with how far away he is trying to get.

I'm not sure what to do now as I lay on my back staring up into the canopy. It was obvious how uncomfortable he was with me naked in front of him. Again. It was an even worse reaction than before since I’d purposely ditched the towel covering my bottom half. That was perhaps to bold a move on my end, but a weird flood of excitement had coursed through me. More impulsive stupidity.

As soon as I’d laid down he had turned away from me. I probably should have rolled onto my opposite side also, but for some reason I can’t seem to make myself move. Plus I can’t wank very well in that position. Part of me is too anxious for wanking anyways. It's going to have to wait a little bit longer if I manage to do it at all.

At some point I fell asleep. I'd waited, but the time never felt right. I don't even know what woke me up until a second later I feel Harry shifting beside me. Bumping into my shoulder trying to curl up like some kneazle.

I'm pretty sure he is asleep. He looks like it anyways. Frankly it is adorable, and I almost go to stroke a bit of the hair off his forehead. I stop myself though. Blinking, frowning, and wondering what the fuck came over me to think and want to do that. 

Then my cock twitches with interest at the warmth of him against me, causing me to take a deep breath and remember why I’m sharing a bed with him again. My mind wants to say things I don’t want it too. I shove them somewhere in the back of me as my cock starts to fill. Why can’t I imagine anything other than that night? Mates do not think of their mates arses. 

It doesn’t take long for me to get hard even though I try not to think of the Burrow, and I try not to be embarrassed about it. As long as I don’t touch him we will both be fine. It will be fine. I just have to pretend he isn’t snuggled into my shoulder is all. 

I decide I won't try and be subtle about it. He has to wake up when I’m doing it or the whole thing is pointless isn’t it? Then either he will tell me to stop or...or I don’t even know what, but it will fix things. Maybe he will just roll back over away from me, and pretend it isn’t happening like a couple of normal young blokes wanking in the same room would do. Or in this case, bed. 

Reaching into my pants I have to tug on my bollocks for a little relief. They are already tight, and I haven’t even started yet. A horrible image of Harry licking them flashes before my eyes comes to mind, and I squeeze them shut to pretend I didn’t imagine it. 

Freeing my erection and wrapping my hand around it I relax. I’m familiar with this part, and holding myself can make it feel like all the other times I’ve wanked. That is until I start stroking myself and my shoulder reminds me someone is pressed against it. Then again I want him to wake up so I just close my eyes and keep moving my hand up and down. Shallowly at first. 

Panting a little as I start stroking faster I realize how incredibly erotic I find it to be wanking next to him. It had felt this way at the Burrow, but I’d still been so half asleep I’d not registered what was making it hot outside of the physical friction I had gotten. Now though….

I moan a little, and can’t help bucking up into my hand slightly. Merlin I still want him to wake up, but I also don’t. If he makes me stop I’m just going to go lay on the fucking floor so I can finish. Or hell I might even argue he hadn’t cared the first time so why was now any different?

Glancing over to check how much time I might have left, I choke meeting his green eyes. My hand falters when they meet even though my cock wants it to keep moving. He is looking at me with wide awake, focused, and unreadable eyes. 

I swallow thickly. I'm pretty sure I made a horrible mistake and then…..and then his eyebrows raise. Like he is expecting some kind of answer from me. I don't even know what the question is so how am I supposed to answer it? Even if he actually asked something, I'm still not sure what answer I could form. 

Slowly I move my hand up and down my length again. I can feel myself leaking due to the way he just keeps looking at me. He hasn’t stopped me. Hell he doesn't even stop the little staring contest we are having as I start tugging on me cock experimentally. Again and again, so much harder than before.

Licking my lips I can't seem to look away. I don't know what is wrong with me. Am I getting off on him or getting off on an audience? Either way the latter has definitely got an appeal. I’m terrified it’s both though. Especially as I imagine coming all over his face. Because I’m an absolutely horrible best mate now so I might as well bloody embrace the moment of him against me watching. 

I part my lips to try and breathe. Swallowing is difficult. I want to look away and save my dignity. Our friendship. Every time I try to close them though they resist the effort. Determined to watch his reaction, or maybe I’m just down right stubborn. The answer is both.

My other hand suddenly grips the sheets between us tightly. I have to hold something because I feel like I'm going to start falling over despite laying flat on the bed. My arm brushes his flat chest and stomach in the process, but he doesn't seem to mind and like hell if I do at this point. It actually takes me concentration not to touch him. 

I have no idea what he is thinking at all. Not a bloody clue as he just watches me wank. I figure out at least some of what he is thinking. Because soon his hand is sliding down his own body. Pushing my hand a little away as he travels further south. All it takes is him moving back up once for me to feel it. To feel the top of his own stiff erection poking my forearm. 

At the realization my hand stills, a whole range of emotions and ideas run through me, but I can’t focus on just one. All I know is that if I don’t stop I'm going to come all over myself before he even gets going. I want, need, to know what’s going to happen. This is the easiest way. It’s easier than talking, and if it becomes an issue later I can blame the hormones. 

Then the room starts shrinking a little, as my heart beats loudly. For some reason I find his face getting closer. There is hardly a foot between us, or at least there was before I found my lips suddenly brushing his. Soft. Hardly there. 

I want to know who did it. Who has them pressing into mine. Deeper and harder, and then I realize he is actually kissing me. As in kissing me, kissing me. I think I've officially lost my bloody mind. How did I go from a midnight wank to an intentional one trying to fix things that has ended up with me snogging my best mate?

I have a bloody girlfriend for Merlin's sake. Sure Mione and I have had our rough patches….a lot. Still she’s my girlfriend, but here I am snogging and wanking with Harry. My defense is I'd just planned on a simple wank. 

Granted it is next to him in bed, but we are men. Blokes can wank together without it being weird. That’s what I thought and tried to reason. I definitely would have believed it before the Burrow, but now I’m so confused. What gave me the bollocks to do it again I can't remember anymore.

Then we are breaking apart, and I realize how lost I’d got in the wet fullness of his lips, and the tingling head of my cock each time my thumb rolled over it. Merlin we are panting together in each other’s faces. Mine are absolutely unforgivable noises, but he seems like he is trying to control himself. I think I lost control somewhere during the snogging. Which I want to do again. 

So I'm pressing my lips back again, fully aware that it’s me doing it. Stealing his air as I tip more and more over the edge until I really am falling into my orgasm. I completely capture his lips in mine to hold on as I pump myself furiously. Seed shooting out of my cock with each pulse and tug. I hardly realize how aggressively I’m snogging him. I don’t care a single bit cause it feels bloody brilliant with ecstasy roaring and my skin sparking happily. 

For some reason I don't stop kissing him. Even as my climax wanes I can’t seem to stop. Maybe it’s because he hasn't come yet, and he is snogging me with some kind of passion. The kind of passion he puts behind his broom when he sees the snitch.

When his lips quit moving all together, making a quiet strangled noise signaling his release, I continue to suck on them softly until I finally manage to stop. I feel horribly satisfied. Satisfied that he has come with me, and satisfied because I’m not alone in this mess we’ve gotten ourselves into. 

His breathing calms against my face, and I realize my eyes have closed at some point. I don’t dare open them and ruin the moment. Basking in the afterglow makes it impossible to tell which one of us starts another kiss. Slow. Finalized. Showing the deed is done and over. 

I feel the awkwardness setting in when his lips leave mine again. He ended it, not me. It’s completely undeniable now as to why things are uncomfortable between us. I want to try and figure out what happened, and why. Can I truly blame it on hormones? Am I just a freak that gets off to blokes watching me wank? That doesn't explain the snogging though…...

I want to ask myself more. Maybe even ask him before the last lingering bliss of a sex filled high wears off. However my eyelids are growing heavy once more now that we’re done. Yet another time I want to keep them open they are betraying me. 


	3. Changing Rapidly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 98.7% smut because plots suck and the only thing I'm decent with is porn. Not sorry. Hope it's enjoyable though!

It's been four days, and we've hardly looked at each other. I just can't find it in me because my face might actually explode when we do. Merlin just thinking of what happened in bed together has me wanting to bury my face in my hands again and groan. Part of me wants to completely blame him, even though I’m the one who started the snogging. 

We totally fucked it all up. You don’t wank with your best mate up against you, and you definitely don’t snog them while it’s happening. There has to be some kind of friendship line that exists, and I’m pretty certain we passed that. 

At least the first night we can blame on whatever wet dream he was having. A perfectly reasonable excuse to pull yourself off in bed as quickly as possible, or at least I assume since I haven’t dared ask what that was all about. Probably still not an excuse for rutting against my arse though. 

Thankfully the last few days I'm already in bed when he comes back. McGonagall is the reason for that. A whole week of detention is what he got for what happened with his bed. Which I no longer think was an accident. At all. McGonagall might believe it, but I sure as hell don’t. 

The thing is I’m not sure I’m mad that it wasn’t. That he tried to pull one over me just to get into my bed. I think I should be, but for some reason I’m not. Maybe it was needed to see what would happen? Maybe he thought the solution was to make it feel normal? I don’t know what was in his head. Whatever it was, the results were probably not what he expected. 

Exhaling loudly I wonder if he stays awake like I do or not. It seems to take forever to go to sleep now. For lots of reasons. Worry, anxiety, and a horrible sense of curiosity overtakes me each night when I’m laying in the same bed replaying the memory against my will. It won’t leave me alone as much as I wish it would. I’ve given up trying to get it out of my head.

The worry, and anxiety I can honestly live with. Mostly. They aren’t things I’m unfamiliar with after all. It’s just a general fear for our friendship and someone I care for so deeply leaving my life that causes those feelings. There is no worry about my sexuality which I’m afraid may very well be part of Ron’s problem with the situation. 

I’m actually afraid my curiosity is my biggest issue. It always has been, and it’s gotten me into a fair share of trouble throughout my entire life. I don’t know who I get it from. Mum, dad, someone else, or maybe it’s just a trait specific to me. Regardless, it is proving the bane of my existence. 

The list of questions and things I think I'd like to know is quite extensive at this point. Was this all a huge accident that got out of hand, and is just fucking with my mindset? Is it me making things weird? Has his mentality changed also or is he just embarrassed? Sure as hell didn’t seem embarrassed when we were doing things. If anything he seemed more confident with his cock in his hand.

Then there are the bigger questions. Does this mean Ron likes blokes too? Does he know the answer to that question yet? Does it mean he might actually like...fancy me or something? The idea of that requires me to take a deep breath and count to ten. I don’t know what to think of that. At all. I don’t want to. 

Silently I curse myself for overthinking again. There are so many questions and uncertainties that we are going to have to talk to each other about the subject, as much as I don’t want to. We have to figure this out. We need to figure out what happened and why, so we can fix the awkward tension that follows us literally everywhere. Our room is practically suffocating in it. 

Ron isn’t necessarily good with talking about feelings. He never has been really. What he is thinking and all that rot he tends to keep it inside until he is just so built up or provoked everything spills out. There is no doubt he doesn’t want to talk about it, and I’m going to have to be the one that brings it up. 

Forcing myself out from under the covers I try to get into a confident seemingly casual headspace. It needs to be done, and I can do it. For us. Might as well just get it over with before I lose the little amount of nerve I’ve built up from frustration. If he is asleep I can just say I tried, and prepare more strategically for another night. Hopefully before his detention is over, because I’m not sure this is something possible to discuss in the daylight. 

The room feels huge even though there is only maybe eight feet between us as I slowly walk over to his bed. Seeing he is awake my heart flutters unpleasantly with nerves. Both things prove to me we definitely need to talk for both our sakes. Especially when he doesn’t even look my way

It’s only when I’m finally standing over him that he moves at all. Then it’s still only his eyes that shift. I don’t like when they land on me. I know all too well what those eyes look like in almost any expression. This time it’s that look he had never given me before all this. The one I still haven’t figured out the meaning behind. 

Unable to find the words, and not wanting to stand there like a fool, I sit down on the edge of the bed stubbornly. It has to be done, but my mouth is dry and being difficult despite my wanting to say something. I need to just be out right…..

The anxiety has started to grow again, and I can tell I’m losing the nerve. It’s bloody exhausting to think about everything and where to begin. Especially being so close to him. 

Laying down beside him, I hope to put us on the same level providing some sense of comfort. My stomach is upset about the prospect of what I’m going to say. Not that it has any reason to worry because I don’t even know how to start, let alone how to get them out. 

Over and over again in my head I repeat I have to. After all, I've always been the outspoken one. Just going straight to the point would be simpler. 

Rolling over to face him quickly I open my mouth to do it, but he is already watching me. Waiting. His blue eyes looking at me almost nervously. Whatever words I’d thought I found died.

Now it feels incredibly awkward. Just as bad as….well no….a lot worse than during the day. Probably because we are so close, and I'm pretty sure the last time we made eye contact was when we were snogging. Like I’d feared my face threatens to be consumed by a deadly heat. 

Merlin what was I thinking coming over to him? What am I supposed to do? Getting up and going back to my bed is the first, and by far, easiest option. That isn’t going to fix anything though. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” I finally managed after a minute. It’s almost a whisper without meaning for it to be. It's a secret between us, and even the dark of the night in the safety of our room talking about it feels far too risky. 

Ron doesn’t say anything right away. I see him swallow. His adam’s apple bobs up and down, and when he licks his lips my heart speeds up in a mild panic because I realize I’m watching it. I bring my gaze back up to his, and hope my staring wasn’t noticed. Of course it was though. 

“Do we have to?” he asks almost as quietly as I did. 

It’s a stupid and pointless question, one that puts everything back on me. Again the easiest option sounds tempting. Bail.

“Well….” I trail off quietly again, my breathing is starting to feel a little strained. “...do we ever want to look at each other in the eye again?” 

“We are,” he says, sounding emotionless. His focus is unwavering and it feels like his eyes are boring into me making me want to squirm.

“Yeah, and I feel like I’m going to fucking explode,” I said truthfully under the pressure, and I let out a deep breath after I said it. There is that outspoken tone I was looking for. Granted what I admitted isn’t what I’d wanted to. 

The redhead’s eyes finally leave mine, and instead start searching my face like he is looking for something. When they linger on my lips it causes me to lick them out of nerves. I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that. Like he is looking for an answer plastered on my face. 

“Why?” he asks, with that unreadable expression. 

“Merlin,” I grumble in frustration. We are getting nowhere. “...will you quit answering me with another question?” 

He has to give me a sign on how he is feeling. Anything. How else are we going to know how to make the awkwardness go away?

“Okay, but you didn’t answer me,” he points out.

“I can’t answer that one…” I tell him, and my decision is firm. I absolutely won’t admit it’s because there is this pressure building inside when he is around me. My cock being a stubborn prat isn’t going to be why I lose my best mate. 

“I can,” he says almost confidently after a few seconds of silent staring. “Because I’m pretty sure it’s the same as me.” 

“Uh….highly doubt that one mate….” I trail off thanking Godric the light is low enough he wouldn’t see the hot blush I know I’m sporting. “I mean...it was just a wank. We can forget it? Right?” 

When he slowly shakes his head no I feel my stomach drop. It’s what I get for snogging the fuck out of him. The way he had looked at me then though. The way he had taken to wanking so shamelessly up against me wearing a hungry expression that, paired with parted lips, had practically begged to be captured. I was weak in the moment. 

Just like I am when I see his hand reaching out to me hesitantly. Instinctively I move back a little, but then it’s touching the side of my head gently. Fingers start sliding into my hair slowly, and then my face is being guided to his. It’s preventing me from breathing because of the uncertainty. I don’t know yet if it’s for him to yell at me better, to threaten me, or for the hopeful idea that has my cock stirring with anticipation that I’m failing to suppress.

As he gets closer and closer, the memory of his scent feels like the only thing that will provide me oxygen. He smells like fresh cotton, and the warmth of a crackling fire. The grass, and woods. It draws me in, and I’m absolutely terrified this is what a batch of amortentia would smell like if I made it now.

When our lips connect it’s strange. There is surprisingly no hesitance from either of us. They just mold together like the first time when we were caught up in lust. Only it’s better because it’s something else.

Bollocks. I need to pull away and stop it, but every time I try it’s counter productive. He follows me, staying attached to my lips. It causes me to part them, like doing so will help dislodge him, even though it’s a subconscious move. One that allows his tongue to slip into my mouth as he begins leaning over me. Snogging me down into the mattress, like that hungry look from last time was a promise of what could happen. 

As I’m sucking on his tongue, nipping his lip, and offering mine up to him in return, I can’t stop the groan that comes out when he is completely on top of me. Our bodies pressing flush together, and the feeling of his hardened cock rubbing against mine that is now fully alive with interest. Even through our pants it’s a wonderful sensation, and I can feel something starting to give way inside me.

Maybe we were dosed with love potions. Considering I’m pretty sure Ginny used a small frequent dose of one on me in sixth year I know what they can do. However it had never caused me to feel like this. With her I had felt raging jealousy, and the need to be with her. A need that had me itching to wrap my arms around her, and hex anyone that dared to look at her the wrong way. This though….

When he grinds his pelvis against mine I lose my train of thought, and grab onto his neck as our lips slide across each other. This is some form of want. Actual want that makes me feel vulnerable and nervous. A way I’d felt with Cho for that brief period of time. Only about ten times worse though because it’s a bloke and my best mate. He’s Ron. 

Godric's tits it’s Ron. Ron is on top of me, his body pressed to mine. Ron’s cock on my cock and his lips devouring my mouth in a savage way.

Ron is doing these things to me. Things he shouldn't but is. I’m not sure what else falls under shouldn’t. Ideas of his cock in my hand probably fall under that category. The same as imagining it in my mouth. Finally knowing how long and thick he is, like I’ve denied myself to wonder. The angry shade it turns when it is ready to come all over my face. 

Growling at myself I try to banish the image. Fucking hell that’s a bad one. Bad because it’s so fucking good. I’m never going to be able to get that picture out of my head. Him on top of me like he is now, coming all over his chest like he can’t get enough of me. I can’t think of that. Merlin I just can’t or bad things will happen like me asking him to do it. 

I shove him off me and gasp for air. That was too much. My cock hurts like I’m about to come in my pants, and it needs to breathe. I need to breathe because I’m light headed from the heavy snogging and his weight on me. There is only one thing I truly know in that moment, and that is the fact my bloody pants are coming off. 

Kicking them past my feet I sigh and allow myself to spread my legs enough for a good fondling of my sack before I start stroking myself. Given our previous wanking together what’s one more time at this point? My cock and head seem in agreement finally as my hand moves faster and faster up and down. 

I’m taken off guard when Ron grabs my arm to stop me. I want to protest, but he uses it as a subtle opportunity to pull me towards him again. I foolishly go with the motion, and my face is tight with restraint seeing his pants are gone as well. The long erection jutting from what I know is a dark red bush of hair is enticing making me want to whimper with desire…. fuck my cock needs friction again.

The redhead continues to drag me up to him like he wants to snog more, until I’m left with nowhere else to go. It gives me no choice to climb on top of him, and there is nothing in me now telling me no. If he wants to lead anything I will gladly let him, although I doubt he actually will as this advances wherever it’s going. 

Where as he laid on top of me I actually straddle his hips. Seeing him beneath me? It causes me to rock back and forth experimentally, relishing the feel of his bare cock nestled under my arse. Apparently the redhead enjoys it too because I watch him bite back a moan, and his hands go to my thighs. Squeezing them tightly like he is suffering from physical torture.

Leaning down I know I’m losing what little control I still have because I'm taking his face in my hands, and kissing him gently. Sweet. Letting him know I want whatever he is willing to offer. Mentally I smack myself for the thought by closing my eyes, but I only kiss him deeper. 

Letting go of his jaw I sit up in a bit of a daze. Fuck it. If I’m going to screw things up I might as well enjoy what I’m given at the moment, because who knows what will happen afterwards. 

I smooth my hands all over his body. Yet another thing I worked hard not to allow myself to think about. I’ve seen it before obviously, but the feel of every curve and groove is so much different. Familiar, but uncharted territory I can explore. 

Ron doesn’t stop me either. All he is doing is laying back, seeming relaxed under my touch, and allowing me to get my fill of him. It’s exciting when his nipples stiffen between my fingers the same way mine did for him. Every inch of his skin is hot, and my hands flex over it all. My urge to rake my nails down his torso is real. I bet he likes the pain, but I resist the temptation.

Instead I continue to journey downward until I’m sitting myself just above his knees so I can admire how well endowed he is. My mouth waters at the sight. The bloke’s cock doesn’t disappoint. 

On instinct I wrap my hand around the base and nuzzle the side of the length with my nose to take a deep inhale of his aroma. Unlike the warm cozy scent the rest of him carries, his crotch smells an intoxicating mixture of musk and sandalwood due to his shower earlier. It has me licking a strip up along the underside of his stiff shaft, pulling down his foreskin in the process so I can trace the full outline of the bulging head beneath. 

My mouth engulfs his cock without thought as soon as I taste the leaked precum at the top. It’s bloody brilliant, and I enjoy the feeling of his length tapping the back of my throat just enough to cause me to jerk back on reflex. Then I’m back on him again in competition, hollowing my cheeks, and bobbing back and forth on a mission to see who gets the better of who. One of the things I pride myself on in my sex life is a natural deepthroating ability. 

A hand is suddenly tangling in my hair roughly. His hips are starting to move upwards, and I realize I’ve gotten a little too enthusiastic in my arousal. I glance up to gauge how he is handling the situation. Seeing him looking down his long body at me with parted lips and fascination, breathing heavy from my work? It only causes me to suck harder resulting in him throwing his head back, and my cock jumping in excitement knowing what I’m doing to him.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189190041@N05/50535590748/in/dateposted-public/)

I highly doubt Ron has had a bloke sucking him off before, even though I know he has had plenty of blow jobs. Just like I know he is no innocent virgin either. Frankly I’ve heard more stories about Lavender and Hermione than I ever want to hear again. He is just an open book with me on things he has done because well….that is what best mates are for aren’t they?

I’ve told him the few things I’ve done with witches, aside from Ginny of course. Experiences outside of those though I haven’t. At least not yet, because they are gay as fuck, and the power of liquor at the age of eighteen in muggle London has had me try it all. I doubt he wants to hear about some bloke’s arse. Although what I wouldn’t give for somebody's cock buried in someone's arse. His, mine, I don’t even care, I just need to feel him. 

Knowing he hasn’t been with a bloke I don’t dare touch the subject, but based on the heavy weight of his shaft on my tongue I know it would be good. It’s going to definitely take some preparation because if he shags me his width is going to stretch me open wide. It’s definitely going to hurt at first, but I can guarantee it’s probably going to be the best feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. 

When he fists my hair tighter causing me to wince and moan around his cock at the same time, I tug on his bollocks. He is getting close, and I don’t want him to come just yet because I can’t decide what I want. Do I want to take more control here, and just finish him off with my mouth? I want to taste all of him, but I want him to feel more confident. In power. He probably feels like he is helpless against my tongue. 

Then his other hand joins in on the goal of ripping my hair out so he can shove his cock deeper into my throat. It’s almost like he knows how much I like it, but I force myself off and out of his grip. Reluctantly Ron let’s go, and he groans pitifully at the loss of the orgasm he had nearly reached.

I know what I want. If there is anything I might possibly get out of this madness as our friendship is crumbling I want that image to be real. That way I can always see him in a state of true bliss an orgasm causes forever embedded into my brain when he is no longer there.forever 

Moving up I press my lips against his hard, sucking in the air he doesn't have, to fuel me with extra confidence for the bold move I’m going to make. One where he can feel in power and on top of the world. It’s never failed to make me smile seeing him like that before, and there is no way this could be any different.

Snogging him a little more, opening my mouth to tempt him, I hold onto his shoulders. Flopping down onto my back heavily, I encourage him to get on top of me again. Holding him at a distance so he won’t try to lay down again. I won’t lie, and pretend my erection bouncing against his naked arse isn’t tempting. It is, but just like I thought he would he parts us as it does. 

“I…..I don’t know about this mate….” the redhead stumbles, seeming to finally be gathering his senses. It’s poor timing to finally do so in my opinion considering we are both naked, have snogged each other to oblivion, and I’ve sucked his cock. I know it stems from the prospect of basically a rod in his arse.

“Just get up here,” and I’m surprised how easier it suddenly is to talk. I kiss him again confidently, showing him what I want with my hands as they skim his body to land on his hips. Still he is hesitant as he shifts on his knees up my chest, but I’m going to knock that feeling down quick for him. 

Quicker than expected as I just start pumping his cock determinedly once he is in the position I wanted. Every twist of my wrist, and I can practically see the barrier drop as his muscles completely relax. The way his eyes close, and he begins to move his pelvis with my hand. My cock is angry with me by the way it twitches trying to get my other hands attention for the millionth time. 

When I’m confident Ron is finally as lost as I am I let go, and his hand doesn’t waste a second replacing mine because he is that close to the edge again. I can see his nostrils flare and the wide eyed, dangerous glare he shoots down at me tells me I’ve won. It looks like he practically wants to eat me alive. I’d let him. 

“Do it,” I say breathlessly, when he slows down his wanking but he picks up again as I tell him. Almost like he needed permission for such an act knowing what is going to happen now, even though I’m the one that put him where he is. 

Staring down his cock that has precum leaking from it heavily, my throat tightens and my breathing increases. Up close from this angle his manhood looks more intimidating. It’s better than I thought it would be. Him stroking himself right before me so I can watch. Before I’d only felt it, but watching is a whole other story. It’s making me feel weak in the best way possible.

I wonder what he is thinking as he starts grunting and thrusting into his own hand. Teasingly coming closer and closer to my mouth each time that might as well be drooling, but I don’t dare interrupt the moment. I just appreciate the sight of his tall body towering above me, biting his lip staring down at me the entire time. It’s a new look again, and one I want more of.

Then with one deep guttural noise my eyes are darting back down to his cock not willing to miss the show. His hand has stilled, and Ron’s gripping the base of himself tightly as he starts to come. Holding back the skin as his seed shoots out of his slit and all over me. 

I can’t even hear him as it happens because I couldn’t have asked for more when some of it lands on my face. My lips. He is covering me and I don’t even wait to lick it off as he takes to stroking himself slowly through the rest of his orgasm. White still spilling from him, and down onto my chest until it’s a steady drip. What I wouldn’t give to clean his prick with my tongue. 

Then he is leaving me by lifting off way too soon. His weight needs to be back on top of me, holding me in place. Grounding me so I don’t do something stupid. I’ve reached the point of being completely shameless. 

Which isn’t good. Because I’m a mess now. A total and complete lost cause as I take to stroking myself furiously making up for the lost time and self denial.

I’m a bit, maybe a lot, of a kinky bastard and I know it. I’ve accepted it. It’s why I’m tweaking my own nipple roughly before running my hand through all the cum on me. Smearing it into my chest without thought. Rubbing it into my collarbone and neck until my fingers reach my mouth. I sure as hell hope the redhead is watching because it’s what he is doing to me.

Sucking his salty cum off the tip of my fingers is the last straw. My balls draw up tight, and with a strangled moan I’m coming all over myself. It’s intense and I want it to never end. I never want the taste of him out of my mouth as I suck the last of the flavor off my skin. 

Ron probably thinks I'm some kind of slut getting off like this in front of him. Because of what I’ve done with him now against my better judgement. I practically start crying happily at the thought of him calling me a slut. His slut.

Merlin I have a even more serious fucking problem now. Oh Godric I should not think or imagine him saying that to me, but I still do. It plays over and over in my mind again as I keep milking myself. My best mate coming on every inch of my body marking me as his in every way possible.

Then suddenly my nipple is being pinched, and pulled away from my body. I have no choice but to drop the hand from my mouth in favor of pulling on my own hair so I don’t cry out loud enough for Neville and Ernie to hear in the next room. Maybe this orgasm will never end, and I will die from pleasure instead of embarrassment I know will flood me later.

When it’s let go my body drops back against the mattress weakly, and the hand that had been wrapped around my cock falls away too. I feel completely spent. Physically mostly since mentally I’m still working to catch up a little, which I’m grateful for because I’d rather bask in the afterglow.

Things are changing rapidly between us and I don’t know how to stop it. Blinking away the stars in disbelief I realize I do, or at least I know where to begin. It’s called we can’t be in the same bloody bed together, or maybe not even the same room. Perhaps the right thing to do is apologize, and try to laugh it off. 

It’s changed enough already though, as my mind catches up I’m not so sure even that will fix it. Especially as I find myself not only refusing to get up, but also rolling up against his side as he maneuvers the covers on top of us despite being covered in come. One of us really should clean up our mess.

It’s not going to be me though as shame is settling in like I feared, and I feel myself start to panic it all. Then Ron’s arm is wrapping around me while he tilts my head up with a gentle hand. Kissing me again with that confidence I knew he would get back until I believe it too. As if it’s the reassurance for us both that what we’ve done is okay.


	4. What's Weird Anyways?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. This Ron was difficult to keep train of thought with. Sorry? Getting ready to get to some good stuff after this chapter though. What will happen? No fucking clue LOL I will let you know when I decide. 
> 
> Also if you aren't new to this fic I HIGHLY recommend going back to chapter 3 to see the NSFW fan art I commissioned of that cock sucking scene because I mean..... -bites fist- Yummy! It was made by Mad1492, who I greatly recommend, and you can be damn sure I'm getting more scenes done from her soon.

You know what’s weird? The fact it doesn’t feel so weird now. I mean sure it’s a little weird, but we can look at each other in the eyes. That’s something. It’s not even awkward when we do. There are still the lingering looks here and there, but it feels better between us. 

Finally talking about what had happened probably helped. Not that I know how considering there wasn’t really any talking. There was mostly snogging, him sucking my cock, and wanking. 

Then there was him wanting me to come all over his face. That bit I admit was weird, but it was also fucking hot. Oh and there was the snuggling. Snuggling with our come bloody all over us. Well it was all over him, but snuggling resulted in it being all over me also. 

Maybe that’s when it truly felt better between us. Waking stuck together, sharing equal looks of disgust followed my snorts before agreeing we both needed to go shower. I almost suggested we just go grab the same stall, but I didn’t. 

Then we just….I don’t know. We just went about our day as normal. Pass the rolls. What the hell is Seamus doing? Where’s Hermione? Did you catch that last bit Binns said? There were even more than a few laughs between us. 

That next night neither of us seemed bothered getting into bed either. We got in our pants like it was no big deal, shared a few basic complaints about the rest of the upcoming week, before shared smiles, and a typical good night. It was brilliant. 

Not as brilliant as right now of course. I mean it’s hard to beat your bollocks getting sucked on as your cock is being stroked. Rolling around in the warmth of a mouth and being traced with a tongue. All the while I’m content to massage his scalp. That messy black mop of untamable hair is finally proving of better use than just causing his eyes to stand out. 

“Merlin’s bollocks….” left me as I tug on his hair a little more, and when he drops my testicle from his mouth I growl. Although it’s only because he is laughing. 

“No way I’d suck on Merlin’s bollocks mate,” he manages after a few seconds resting his head on my thigh, right beside my cock that is still wet with his saliva. 

“Only my bollocks then eh?” I ask with my own breathless laugh as he licks up the crease of where my thigh connects to my hip.

I let go of his hair as he doesn’t seem interested in stopping for my cock again, so I take it in hand and hold it tight. It feels like I’ve been hard forever at this point. That’s probably the alcohol though. I think. 

It’s been a while since we looked at the time. Pretty sure it was before that last round of truth or dare. I was terrified of what questions everyone was going to ask when people picked us, and for good reason with our new little secret. What we had already consumed ended up doubled as we turned down questions that hit too close to home. 

Suddenly Harry is tonguing at my nipple before latching onto it causing me to hiss. I definitely didn’t know bloke’s nipples could be so bloody sensitive. Witches sure, that was just common knowledge. Even Hermione’s were sensitive. One roll of my thumb over them, and I could put galleons on her knickers already being wet. 

My mind pauses briefly on her. I should probably be doing this with her, not my best mate. She is my bloody girlfriend after all. 

Granted a moody girlfriend. One that seems content to disappear at random times like in the middle of an eighth year party where even the Slytherins were getting happily slooshed. Her gone, and watching Pansy and Neville practically shagging on the sofa in front of everyone? It only took one suggestive look, and we bailed from the common room in favor of our shared room. 

Hermione also never seemed interested in snogging me with the passion Harry does. Granted this has only been the third time, but it’s bloody intense. Something I can’t seem to get enough of. 

Teeth skate my neck before biting down causing all thought to leave my mind. Something in me exposes it a little more for him. I briefly register that as odd. Hermione was the one that bore her neck for me the few times we had gotten this hot and heavy. Witch was a bit of a prude when it came to sex so can’t say we did it more than a few times. 

“You’re god damn right…” Harry whispers into my ear after licking his way behind my ear. 

What am I right about again? Whatever it is, I want that memory in a pensieve so I can listen to him say it over and over again. It’s so arousing to hear that I start wanking as we are snogging again. I love snogging him. Snogging is bloody great. Our lips sliding together. Nipping. Biting. Wet. Everywhere. 

“Have you ever thought about shagging a bloke?” is suddenly murmured against my lips, and my cock jumps in my hand at the idea. Somewhere in my mind I wonder if it should have done that. I’m a straight bloke right? 

“Maybe…” I still find myself answering leaning up to his lips encouraging them back down as he went to pull away. Not happening. I want those lips. Swollen and it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. 

“Do you want to?” he asks, and I let out a laugh, favoring his naked hips instead of my cock. Our clothes were lost somewhere on the floor long ago. 

“Is that an offer?” I grin imagining his face completely lost in an orgasm as I caress his ribs. I’d only gotten to see half of it last time from the side. I want all of it.

“Maybe…” he whispers far too smugly. 

“Prat, is my instant reflex.

“Git,” is apparently his. 

The banter between us has us starting to snog harder. More excitedly if at all possible. His cock grinding against mine until….

“I’ve never shagged a bloke…” I finally say turning away slightly trying to get my mind around the concept. As our cocks rub against each other roughly I feel the possibility increasing greatly. Because I do want to shag him. I like feeling him against me. The confidence and shamelessness. “I don’t know if...” 

“I’ll bottom,” he said before I could even finish the thought in my head. Like he already knew the question in my head. Which he did. 

“Bottom?” I repeat as he sucks on my neck like a bloody dementor. I know what it means, but imagining my cock buried in my best mate’s arse has me feeling a weird rush of excitement. 

“Means your cock would be going in my arse….” he clarifies, probably thinking I’m that inexperienced with the mechanics of gay sex. It doesn’t take a genius to know what parts go where. Not to blame him though considering I’ve never once asked him about his sex life. That’s going to probably change though. I want to know now. 

Then Harry is rolling off of me and onto his back, quite undignified. “Uh….oh wand. Wand,” he says, seeming to realize what was needed. His wand flies past my face and into his hand a second later from I don’t even know where. 

I watch with interest as he mutters something, and throws the piece of wood back over me carelessly. Wasting no time between throwing it, and sticking his right hand down between his legs. My eyes widen at the sight of him shoving his own fingers up his arse. Definitely not a sight I’d ever imagined, or thought, I needed until now that I’ve seen it.

Unsure where the boldness even comes from I lean up on my arm enough to kiss him again. Our chests are pressing together, and my hand is pushing his hand away so it can take its place at where he has been fucking himself. I want to shag him. I want him coming on my cock instead of his bloody fingers. I want to feel all of him. 

He doesn’t moan, but I sure as hell do as I push them two into his opening. His arsehole is so slick, obviously covered with lube. I wonder if he meant to cast that much or if it was deliberate. It seems deliberate with how easy they move in and out of him. Not having played with anyone’s arse before it’s fascinating. Hotter and tighter than any witches snatch. 

Can I go any further inside him? Can it stretch him just as wide? Shoving in a third finger without warning a noise vibrates against my lips that are back on his. Apparently he likes it considering he is starting to rock down onto my hand. It’s exciting feeling him pushing his bum down for me. 

It has me wanting to give him more. I thrust them inside him over and over again enjoying the act alone. Stretching, twisting, and then when my fingers hook the right way he makes the cutest noise I will probably hear in my dreams. 

“Quit bloody teasing me,” he complains even though he is bearing down on my digits again. 

“Want me to shag you that bad?” I ask shoving them back deeper inside him. It causes him to exhale roughly in pure pleasure.

“Mate,” he breathes heavily, in all seriousness. “I’ve been thinking about you shagging me for weeks now.” 

There is no stop to the disbelieving laugh of arousal that leaves me. He wants me, and I fucking want him in a way I didn’t know. So without any hesitation I get up, moving between his legs and hovering over his body just like I’ve done with Hermione and Lav before. It’s no different except I don’t have breasts to watch bounce, but that is made up for easily. All I have to do is look downward a little and I can watch his long, stiff cock bobbing between us.

Being in a new position though I get a little light headed, either from the alcohol, the sight, or the excitement. Probably all three honestly. I mean come on, my cock literally aches as I put it against his furrowed hole. It opens and closes like it needs to tempt me, and my heart rate sky rockets realizing what we are about to do. 

“You really want…..us to shag?” I ask for confirmation looking down at him. His glasses have disappeared now leaving me with completely unfiltered eyes that seem to want to eat me alive. They can. If it’s a wet dream it’s a bloody good one. 

“If I didn’t want us to shag your fingers wouldn’t have been up my arse, and your cock wouldn’t be against it,” he says bluntly, sounding impatient. 

I don’t know what to say to that so in a bit of nervous energy and panic, I lean down to kiss him. Kiss him to soothe myself, and him because Merlin it has to hurt, as the head of my cock presses more and more against his opening until it pops past the tight ring of muscles. 

We both gasp as I slowly push in further slowly. It’s so tight I can hardly breathe. Oh shagging a witch has never ever felt like this. This is so much better because arse acts like it wants to squeeze the orgasm out of me. I want to just let it, but I also want to shag him so hard he can’t forget what we’re doing. 

“Good Godric yes…” Harry moans tightly,stroking his own cock slowly while I’m sinking further inside him inch by inch. “Yes….I knew it….oh….” 

I force myself to stay put unsure of what he means. He’s had gay sex so he knows what he is doing right? What if I’m doing something wrong and it’s hurting him? My concern actually gets me in trouble though. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” the bloke growls at me, and the roughness of his voice sends shivers down my spine. “I want you to stretch me until I break.”

That gives me shivers too, because fuck I have no idea what that means either. My bollocks try to draw up just from the lust in his voice alone. Not counting his clenching around my width that requires me to take deep breaths to stave off coming like a fourteen year old having sex for the first time. 

“Move,” he basically demands when I still don’t continue, and I love how he is being all bossy even though he is the one with a cock up his arse. I try to remind him by finally thrusting into him hard, but it does the opposite. He mewls in response so I do it again, and again, and again until I’m actually full on shagging him. I’m shagging my best mate. I’m shagging Harry, and I’m dragging the most amazing noises out of him making me only want to do it harder. 

“Faster Ron, faster…” he practically begs, as I continue thrusting into him. The sound of our skin slapping together echos the room. 

I’ve gone down to my forearms as my hips continue to snap against him trying to go deeper. Quicker. Finally I have to rest my head on his shoulder. It’s perhaps the best feeling I’ve ever felt, and I want nothing more to just bask in it after I’ve reached that peak I’m nearing. 

It’s become a bloody work out with how hard he wants me to shag him. Despite his, and even my own, wishes I finally have to stop. His demand for more I’ve heard him chanting in the distance is turning out to be an impossible request. I’m getting bloody dizzy, and I just don’t think I can. Apparently he realizes it.

“Roll over,” Harry tells me almost panting, pushing at my chest with his hands desperately. 

I happily oblige, enjoying the weightlessness of my body falling against the bed. That is until I find myself arching up into the feeling of his hot arse engulfing my cock once more. I’m never going to get enough of that. Especially him being so needy as to all but jump on it. 

Then he is sitting on my cock. Somehow my entire stiffened length is buried in the depths of his arse. There is no denying how much he loves it with his dropped jaw, and speed at which he is already wanking himself. All he does first is simply rock back and forth. Instantly I know it won’t last much longer. Probably for both of us. 

His rocking quickly morphs into him confidently bouncing on my cock with no restraint. Hands placed heavily on my chest, as I’m sliding in and out of him. I grab his hips in response. Keeping him in place instinctively I start thrusting up into him with energy I didn’t have before because I feel like he is going to bloody break me, and I need to come. 

I need to come and I want to come inside him. My brain, slit I can feel leaking, and bollocks all but demand it. I want to see his jaw dropped again this time in an effort to find air due to me hitting that sweet spot I know he has, rubbing against my cock somewhere. His face is completely capturing, and I can’t look away. 

My grip on him weakens with dying grunts, but he makes up for it by grinding his arse down onto me. It’s pulling my pubes in the best way possible as he is digging his nails into my chest. It only fuels me with something primal, and then I’m coming. 

I'm coming so bloody hard it’s all consuming, and I try to hold onto anything else because his hips that are still moving just won’t do. He needs to stay put. I need to feel all of him even as my cock is pulsing against his soft inner walls. It’s not possible, but my brain and throbbing cock just scream and scream for more. 

I grab his waist hoping it helps, but nothing seems to be as satisfying as just spilling myself inside him, and he is looking down at me with a look of fascination. Like me coming was his own wet dream. My hands just keep rubbing all of him. His waist, his toned stomach…..

Then as if he knows I’m done he starts moving again with a more determined pace of his own choosing. Dropping down hard each time which causes me to whimper from the wonderful overstimulation that is the head of my cock continuing to brush against him as my orgasm is trying to fade. 

Pushing himself upright he starts wanking himself. I kind of want to do it, but I feel so paralyzed I just can’t. Im paralyzed by the sight, the surge of physical and mental feelings. I've shagged a bloke. I’ve shagged Harry, and it’s been the best thing ever. 

It’s not on my face when he starts to come because he is further back. Coming on my cock where I was literally just in his face just wanking. I’m not sure which I prefer. That’s bullshit because him coming on my cock, his seed spurting out across my body, is more intoxicating than the firewhisky was. I want to see it again. Again and again. 

Out of curiosity, remembering the way he had acted like come was liquid life smearing it all over himself like he couldn’t get enough, I can’t help myself. I drag my thumb through a puddle of his arousal as he slows his hand, and I’m left with the warm encasement of his channel around me. He had sucked on it like his fingers were covered in treacle tart….

Bringing it to my lips, opening them cautiously as it’s my first bite of something unknown, which it is, my eyes close to the taste. It’s warm, salty, and for some reason tastes distinctly Harry. I think I feel a little like him. I want to keep tasting him. When I open my eyes his are practically boring into me, his cock still in hand although it’s wilting now that it's been pleased. 

“Do it again,” he says, and I find myself following his wants yet again. 

Gathering more and shamelessly dragging my thumb down my tongue for him to see. He moans, his body leans forward. It’s like he is going to start drooling all over me just from seeing his come in my mouth. 

Sighing finally he gets off me, and I’m mildly disappointed in the weight and heat of him leaving. He looks done for. Spent, laying beside me in tired contentment, and I feel it too. At least this time I’m not too caught up in the moment, even with the alcohol, to forget to clean us. I don’t want to end up stuck together in the morning sharing looks of disgust as much as I secretly enjoyed it. 

As soon as I cast it he is up against me. His skin is hot and sweaty. It’s relaxing in a way that has me not ever wanting to move again. We might as well be melted together as one at this point, and my drunk self acknowledges that the night couldn’t get any better than that. I agree. 

**XXXXXXX**

Again we wake up in bed together. I actually wake first this time, but like fuck if I’m moving. There is a pulse behind my eyes that has me burying my face into the dark depths behind his neck, and into the pillow. Apparently we are snuggling again, and I could really care less at the moment. What’s a little snuggling after what we’ve started doing? If anything I want to snuggle more because of it. 

There is the possibility I fell back asleep. My eyes are harder to pry open now. He’s just so bloody warm, and cozy. Familiar, and just perfect to sleep against. This should be what best mates are for. As long as it’s him anyways. I mean I’m close mates with Neville and Seamus, but the idea of snuggling them has me wrinkling my nose. Whereas Harry? It just feels right. Even in the Burrow that first night, it felt right. 

I sigh trying to get myself back to sleep again instead of dealing with this bloody hangover. It isn’t working, and apparently somewhere in the passing time Harry woke up because I feel him shifting against me. He isn’t trying to get away, but I can feel the tension in his muscles. The weirdness setting in. Squeezing him in my arms I try to get him to relax. I don’t like it when he is tense. 

“We shagged,” he says into the silence with a sigh, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.

Stifling a yawn I only curl up closer, wanting the darkness so I can easily replay the memory again as I murmur in agreement. Despite my lack of care about it, he shifts uncomfortably again, ruining the moment. Leaning my forehead against his back there is no choice but to accept that there will be no more sleep. 

“Can we not do the awkward thing again?” I ask in defeat. “Just go back to normal yea?”

“Pretty sure it’s not normal to shag your best mate,” he counters. 

“Fair point,” I mumble moving closer up to his ear because I don’t want to talk loudly, and frankly I might want the intimacy. “Best mates also don't snog the living daylights out of each other, wank together, and suck their cocks….yet here we are.” 

“We’re still best mates?” he asks me, sounding surprised. 

His tone causes me to frown. It also causes me to place a hopefully soothing and reassuring kiss on the back of his neck. “Why wouldn’t we be?” 

“Becaue best mates don't snog the living daylights out of each other, wank together, suck their cocks, and shag,” he said bluntly, finally losing the shame I think he has been carrying around in the daylight. 

“Merlin you’re an asshole this early,” exhaling at his stubbornness. “Aren’t you supposed to be relaxed after a night of drinking and shagging?” 

“You don’t regret it?” he asks me, still not turning to face me.

“No?” I reply instantly, blinking my eyes open, finally trying to think of anything that I had done wrong. Memory tells me it was fucking brilliant, and remembering the feel of us moving together has me caressing his hip bone. Rubbing my hand down his still naked thigh. “Bloody brilliant shag if I recall. Merlin I want...”

“Hey now,” he interrupts, moving away a little out of my arms. “... my arse isn’t up on the table to be your personal fuck toy.” 

“Sure about that? I think your kinky cum slut arse would like it,” I smirk grabbing him around the stomach pulling him back against me again, twisting him as I do so. I’m not sure why, but he is suddenly laughing. Then I’m laughing, and I don’t think it could possibly get any better.

“If you want me to come all over your face again I’d fucking do it,” I say quite confidently kissing his lips again. There is an odd, and desirably pleasing feeling about doing it, as he laughs some more. The sound is good hearted, and light. I love it. 

“Alright alright alright,” he says, trying to pull away before pushing at me playfully. “Get off! I’ve got to piss.”

Reluctantly I make myself let go so he can get up, and the laughter fades a little although my smile doesn't. Rolling onto my back I ignore the throb it produces. It allows me to watch his naked arse move across the room rummaging for a fresh pair of pants though. I don’t think I can ever look at his arse the same again. All I want to do is grab it, squeeze it. Fucking bite it. 

Merlin I don’t want anyone else daring to touch his arse again because something in me wants it to be mine. The want doesn’t even scare me. It has me longing, aching, in a surprising way I can’t even question as I watch him slip on the cotton that hides his hidden beauty. 

He quits moving, and I glance up to see what he is doing. I find him raising his eyebrows from having caught me staring. I shrug, causing him to roll his eyes at me. Can he really blame me? 

Grins, and a small laugh between us is all that is exchanged. Things are definitely not going to be weird between us now. Not if he is smiling and okay with me checking him out so openly after being thoroughly shagged and kissed. 

Sadly he throws a shirt over his top too as he heads to leave the room. I know he will be right back, but pulling him back into my bed and us staying there all day sounds like a damn good idea. Then right before his hand touches the door handle there is a loud banging against it causing us both to jump. 

“Ronald!” shouts Hermione from the other side of the door, and all the blood in my face instantly drains. All the light hearted feeling, smiles, and lingering laughs I could hear evaporates into the air. Harry and I share a look, and I know the same just happened to him. 

Suddenly I feel a bit panicked. Mostly because I’d just spent the night shagging my best mate, cuddling and….Merlin I think….I think this morning counted as flirting. Did it?

Either way my girlfriend is on the other side of the door sounding both pissed and urgent. Does she know what we’ve done? Could she know? She couldn’t.

The wanking I could pass off easily as nothing. The snogging I’d put on the heat of the moment. Sure the sucking my cock was crossing a line, but it’d felt so good being back on normal terms with my best mate that it hadn’t even crossed my mind whenever Hermione had been near me. I’d just felt so much happier again with everything being okay. 

Now though….there isn’t any coming back from my cock up his arse. Him riding me in a way that she never had. A way that had me have a horrible moment of realization. I’ve cheated on Mione, and it might as well be like Harry did too. There is almost a worse realization that I refuse to think about as the bang comes again. 

“Harry you too!” the witch shouted. “We need to talk!” 

****


	5. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No apologies for my absence. Kind of hard to control depression.... 
> 
> Coming back to this I'm not so sure I'm good at first person. This might be the only fic I do in this POV. We will see, but there are only 3 more chapters after this one!

“Ron your neck,” I whisper harshly, gesturing to my own to try and show him. Of course his hand only goes to wrap around his entire throat. There isn't enough time for me to get frustrated, so instead I run back over to him and quickly heal the marks I left on his neck. Ignoring the lingering thought of how I wish he could keep them. 

“Coming Hermione!” I call over my shoulder. 

It's more believable that I'm the one already up, granted I don't even know what time it is since we were drinking. Sure it would be better if I also had my trousers on, but the bloody witch has seen me in my pants hundreds of times. The shame of what Ron and I have done though makes me want to cover my bollocks for protection out of pure instinct. 

Reaching down the bed I grab the redhead’s pants from last night, and throw them to him. Hopefully he can get them on without much fuss, but I can't wait to find out because she is banging on the door again. Taking a deep breath I try to steady myself, slightly terrified of what's to come. No one could possibly know what we've been doing together. Then again…. it's Hermione.

Slowly I open it, and pray to Merlin and all the gods I know that my face isn’t flushed with nerves. Hermione is there though, glaring at me already with her arms crossed across her chest. Curly hair drawn up on top of her head in a bun, in a navy blouse and jeans. Swallowing thickly I try not to jump to conclusions. 

“What's wrong?” I asked, hoping not to sound too hesitant. 

“Trelawny!” Hermione huffs going to push past me. She doesn’t need to though because I quickly get out of her way as she stomps over to Ron’s bed and plops down on the edge. “I can’t even believe the audacity of that woman!” she continues throwing her hands up in the air. 

“Uhh…” I look over to the redhead hoping for some kind of answer, but he shakes his head tightly, apparently as confused as me. “Good morning to you too?” 

“What’d she do this time?” Ron asks surprisingly even, and it allows me to let out the deep breath I had been holding when the witch turns to him. 

“She stopped me randomly in the hall after breakfast. Told me congratulations, and it doesn’t mean I should actually eat for two,” Hermione rambles off making me confused. 

“Congratulations about what?” I pry, furrowing my brows trying to think of any reason that a congratulations is in order. Graduation is still over a full term away. 

Ron finally straightens up all the way on the bed, and throws his legs over the edge. He did manage to get his pants on which is all and all a relief in itself. It’s not like we previously walked around the dorms, or anywhere for that matter, without bottoms on. 

“We all know she’s barmy Mione. Don’t worry about it,” Ron offers dismissively, and he isn’t wrong. Well for the most part. They haven’t exactly been on the receiving end of her prophecies. Even as few and far between they are I still give each the benefit of the doubt no matter how crazy they sound. 

“Don’t worry about it?” Hermione parroted, clearly unhappy with her boyfriend’s response before snapping her attention back to me. “She went as far as to insult our friendship Harry!” 

“She what?” and I suddenly feel a bit faint, last night’s firewhisky making itself known in my stomach. It’s taking a bit of focus not to get sick. 

“I’m not sure. It sounded like she thinks we’re all not going to be friends anymore,” the witch offers up sounding dejected. 

I have to clench my teeth to keep from laughing uncomfortably. Fuck if Hermione doesn’t know what’s happening the bloody praying mantis of Scotland sounds like she does. Oh if that thought isn’t terrifying. Trewlawny knowing about our sex life….. 

“Harry, do you mind if I talk to Ron?” she asks me, and my eyes dart back and forth between the couple quicker than they should. The tightness in my chest is almost unbearable. Nerves. Panic. Dread.

“Sure Hermione,” I find myself answering. Merlin I can hear my own voice croak. “Just uh...a second….” I gesture to my lower half. 

If I’m going to make a run for it past the common room I need trousers at least. It’s just as much Ron’s room as it is mine after all so they deserve their privacy, and they obviously have something they need to sort out. I just hope that something isn’t me, and the wide eyed nervous look Ron keeps giving me shows he is worried it is too. Hell it half way looks like he is begging me not to go. 

When I button my jeans though I find myself less stressed than I was a minute ago, granted not by much. Maybe it makes me a coward more than ready to take the way out quickly, escaping the suffocation of the room that’s closing in on me. I don’t even chance a glance back at Ron, only a little scared of his fate. Self preservation isn’t my top quality, but when it comes to Hermione’s wrath it sure as hell jumps to the top of the list. Grabbing my wand I simply walk out the door looking what I hope is normal, closing it softly behind me. Is there even such a thing as walking normally out of a door?

**XXXXXX**

The afternoon sun reflects across the lake. Little waves gently lapping at the shore, and I actually debate shedding my clothes for a swim. Especially once I see the Giant Squid emerge and splash about. The energy just isn’t in me though. There is too much weighing down my mind now. Surely I’d end up sinking from the heaviness. Then again I might just try to drown myself. 

How could I have been so stupid? So stupid that I let my cock get in the way of my friendships. My curiosity was part of it. This isn’t my normal mentality, or at least I think it’s not. I don’t even know really. It was just that look he gave me. The look he kept giving me. The way he touched me everytime.….

Growling in frustration I rip up some of the grass I’ve been playing with, more like ripping apart out of nervousness. It will grow back soon, maybe before the first frost, so no harm done. Besides it won’t get me in trouble like blowing something up will, not that I’m sure it would provide much satisfaction. Even if I am outside I’d rather not risk testing that theory. 

Some time I’m going to have to find the bollocks to go back inside. Find the nerve to go to the Great Hall, or if I’m feeling brave, the common room. Find out what is left of my friendships, if there are any left at all. Sure I’d probably still have people like Neville, but what’s that in comparison to the two people that have been by my side since the first year? Good Godric now I’m undervaluing Neville. 

The sound of laughs nearby briefly shakes me from my self loathing, and has me looking over my right shoulder. It's just a group of younger students walking past. I’m not jealous of them, but something similar to longing hits me. Maybe it’s their smiles and the obvious lack of worry on their shoulders. 

Scowling I go to look back down at the patch of grass I’ve destroyed with my frustrated hand. Maybe if I yank a little harder I can really feel the burn of the blades, but instead my eye catches his hair. I can’t tell if I want to groan, if it feels like I swallowed a rock, or if I should feel relieved he is approaching me. It means he had to intentionally seek me out considering I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. He 

“Map,” Ron offers the answer to my unspoken question with a small smile. He holds up the old parchment before stuffing it in his trouser pockets. The dark tan pair he favors with that worn ACDC shirt Dean got him. Arsehole looks good, and more importantly in one piece. 

“Hermione?” I ask cutting straight to the point, looking back out over the lake. “What’d she want?”

“Fucking stressed me out is what she did,” Ron grumbled huffing as he takes a sit on the ground next to me, and I think that is by far an understatement. 

“Um so...” because I’m apparently going to have to prompt him for information.

“She doesn’t want to have sex anymore just in case,” Ron said, and I look over quick enough to catch him rolling his eyes. “She acts like we were even shagging in the first place. I can hardly remember the last time she and I had a go.”

“Speaking of shagging…” I start trying to not sound awkward. It’s not like the subject has been easily broached between us, until this morning that is. “....we need to you know…..stop.” 

“You want to stop?” Ron asked, and if I wasn’t watching I wouldn’t have seen the brief look of hurt that flashed over his eyes. It makes my heart clench a little, which in result makes me wince. 

“We can’t shag or...,” I say simply, managing to catch myself before I say more. Merlin I almost said be together, like there was ever an indication that this was more than some fucked up friends fooling around. “While you’re with Hermione whatever this is....it’s wrong.” 

“What if I told you I’ve been thinking of breaking it off with her for a few weeks now?” Ron asked, head popped back up almost eagerly, but he just as quickly looked away, seeming uncomfortable. “Even before, you know…”

“I already told you Ron. I’m not just going to be your fuck buddy or you’re gay expierement or whatever. You shouldn’t break it off with Hermione by thinking with your cock,” I tell him, and fuck why did that hurt to say?

There is a bitterness to my voice. I can hear it, but I can’t help it. It’s my fault to begin with….I think. Regardless I have my own control over how I react to the situation, and maybe I’ve been selfish. 

“It’s not just you,” Ron said a bit harder than I think he meant to. “Bloody witch has been ditching me since graduation. We hardly spend time together like a couple should. If you ask me Trewlwavny was talking about her being the one to grow distant from us. Not you.” 

“It doesn’t matter. No matter how much I...uh...” I trail off biting my tongue refusing to elaborate on that train of thought which leaves me to settle for my own huff. “I’m not going to shag just anyone who wants to shag. Especially you. You’re better than that, and I refuse to be that. I’d want….” 

“You’d want what?” Ron pried sounding curious, and the intensity of his blue eyes searching mine pin me down to the point it feels uncomfortable making me squirm. 

“I….I want a relationship,” I admit a bit sheepishly. The words are generalized, and the truth. He deserves the truth. “Someone I can trust Ron. Count on. Someone who wants to be with me, and love…..

“What if I said I want to try?” Ron interrupts startling me, and I just look at him waiting for him to say more. The silence stretches causing some kind of tension to grow.

“Try what?” I ask only mildly confused, because he can’t be saying what I think he is. Then again it’s really the only logical possibility, and the blush staining his cheeks is undeniable. 

“That I wanted to try….being together,” he offers biting his lips as he manages the last of the sentence. 

“Being together?” I repeat, my eyebrows raising in disbelief.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, or if I expected anything at all. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t that. His shy-like expression though turns into a serious glare, and he starts grumbling to himself under his breath.

“You know…” Ron starts off, exhaling heavily and kicking once at the ground with the heel of his trainer. “..boyfriends?” 

It’s not like I meant for it to happen. I really didn’t, but it’s impossible to stop the laugh that bubbles out of me. Whether it’s from the sheer idea, the absurdity of it all, or just the redhead’s nerves showing through due to a mere word I don’t know. Either way it’s entertaining until he looks at me sourly. Telling me he’s actually serious, and it kills the amusement by making my throat go dry. 

“I don’t know Ron. We’ve probably already fucked things up between us enough already,” I argue weakly, my throat feeling parched now. “You’re my best mate, and this was probably just some...I don’t know….but I don’t want to risk our friendship over some bloody orgasms.”

“Come on mate,” the redhead says, nudging me in the arm with his elbow, and the fun in his voice despite the topic makes me smile. “Thick and thin you and me right? We've been through a bloody war. Nothing’s going to come between us.” 

Looking at him again my innards melt. He is saying it with such a genuine smile that radiates confidence. One hardly seen off the quidditch pitch or from behind a chessboard where he knows he is damn good at what he does. I want to believe him so badly, especially when he definitely seems to believe it. 

Fuck why can’t my life ever be easy? I want a serious relationship. Serious as in love, and the clique be together forever rubbish. I’ve spent enough of my life living on the edge of death that I have no desire to spend whatever time I have now playing one night stands and flings. 

Could I love Ron more than my best mate? Do I already? More importantly is he capable of that? The way he is looking at me….yes I’m definitely screwed. Drowning myself sounds like a good option again because I’m actually considering this like a prat. 

“Break it off with Hermione,” I state flatly against my better judgement, finally finding it in me to swallow. Even though he already said he’s thought about it, actions speak a lot louder than words for me. “Break it off, and...and really think about it before bringing it back up. You’re my best mate first and foremost Ron.”

“Okay,” he answers right away surprisingly softly. 

His smile if anything grows, and he looks down to my lips before licking his own and catching my eyes again. It’s a little hard to breath watching him debate and restrain himself from leaning forward to kiss me like I can see he wants to. Despite my own words, and knowing I shouldn't, I know I’m crumbling down. 

I can feel some stupid feeling tugging at me, and there isn’t a thought as I close the space between us to kiss him gently. Lips brushing before planting firmly together as I breathe in the scent of him being this close again just in case it’s the last time. It’s the first time we’ve kissed in the daylight though, let alone out in the open, and I couldn’t have imagined it being this comfortable. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've created a group on facebook called Ron's Chessboard. 100% Ron centric and no bashing at all is allowed towards him! Feel free to join to share Ron fics, aesthetics and more!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Feels Like Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26548522) by [accio_broom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio_broom/pseuds/accio_broom)




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